It Is Your Painting
by twirltheflag
Summary: Kinu has been forced into a life of stealing her own paintings. Unfortunately, they are scattered around the world. Now, she must trust a certain group of thieves to help and survive being chased by cops and men alike. Rated for Language and suggestions.
1. Chapter 1

Info and Part 1

Name: Kinu Amaya

Age: 18 years old

Height: 5'9"

Looks: Shoulder length, straight, strawberry-blond hair. Grey blue eyes. Pale skin.

Personality: Smart, quiet, artistic, can seem extremely innocent but has a few tricks up here sleeve.

Background: … You'll find out ;)

And now, we begin….

…

I entered the art gallery, looking all around.

None of the staff seemed to recognize me in my long black wig and my black sun-glasses.

Good.

I needed to observe the security situation with out being recognized or suspected.

I walked through the gallery until I came to the biggest room with fancy columns. This room held the main attraction.

A painting by a mysterious artist calling themselves Shade Timmons. No one knew anything about this painter. They didn't know where they lived, what they looked like or if Shade Timmons was their real name.

The only thing that anyone knew was that Shade Timmons had painted 16 incredible scenes that depicted doorways and windows opening up to dark yet beautiful worlds full of flowers, coral and lightning.

The museum once displayed all 16 of these paintings before "handing them out" to prestigious art museums all over the world.

And by "handing them out", I mean that the owner of this museum had made under-the-table-deals with every single museum that was willing to pay.

Now, the museum only had one painting. The painting of windowed, double-doors opening up to my dark world.

That was my painting.

I was Shade Timmons.

And my paintings were stolen from me.

Now, I was gonna get them back.

I looked around the room, judging the security.

The room that my painting was in could be entered 3 different ways and there were 2 guards at each entry.

All the security cameras were focused on this one painting.

Heat sensitive tiles were laid on the floor under the painting. So, if anybody tried to steal it, they would have to stand on those tiles, which would read their body heat and set off an alarm.

I looked up towards the ceiling of the room and found an air vent large enough for a person to fit into.

Perfect.

I looked at my watch.

9:30 p.m.

30 minutes until closing time.

Perfect.

I walked out of the room and went into the bath room which was at the entry way of the museum.

I walked into the largest stall and locked the door behind me.

My original plan was to hide out in the bath room until one of the tour guides or female security guards came to powder their nose and then switch places with them.

But then I noticed that their was an air vent in my stall, again, big enough for a person to fit through.

'This is way too easy.'

I stripped out of my jeans, black blouse and fake-fur shrug, revealing my black body suit.

I ripped my wig off but kept my hair in it bun before replacing my sunglasses with goggles.

I took my pocket pistol from my, otherwise, empty purse and shoved it in it's thigh holster.

I opened the vent and slipped through.

After crawling for a bit, I found myself at the elevator shaft. There was a series of pipes which attack as a ladder that connected to all the air vents of all the levels of the museum. I climbed all the way to the top air vent and crawled in.

I finally found my way to opening above my painting.

And the guards were just started to usher people out for closing time.

'30 minutes after closing time, I'll make my move.'

…

10: 28 p.m.

2 minutes 'til go time.

The guards had moved to guarding the outside of the room.

The only guard that was in the room was one of the guards that checked every single room in the museum individually.

Taking one man down quietly would be, oh, so very easy.

Suddenly, a new guard came in and said that it was time for them to switch.

The old guard walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

I was just about to break through the air vent and take down the guard when I heard him start to laugh.

He took off his cap, revealing his face. Black hair with side burns and black, thick eye brows. He look strange but diabolical.

"Cost is clear guys."

Suddenly, panel from the columns fell away to reveal two men, one with a fedora and one in a hakuma.

The one in the fedora started rubbing the back of his neck. "Man, those friggin' columns give me such a crick in the neck."

The fake guard started chuckling and said, "Hey, once we make money off of this baby, you'll be able to hire as many personal masseuses as you want."

They all turned towards my painting.

I would have made my move at that moment but I was curious; if these guys got past the guards and the cameras, there were no rookies. 'Maybe, if these men steal the painting first, I can, then, steal it from them and, in the end, they'll still get the blame.'

The fake guard took out a cylinder which extended into a fishing rod.

He lowered the hook behind the frame, trying to hook onto the actually painting.

That's when I decided to put a tracker on him so I could find him later.

I peeled off one of my fake nails and dropped it through the vent.

It slipped right into the back of his shirt.

I smirked to myself. 'I think I can leave these boys on their own now. I have to get back to my job.'

I crawled my way through the vents until I came to the museum owner's office.

He was going through some paper work when he got up and left the room, probably to go take a piss.

Once he was gone, I kicked open the vent and dropped through, landing right in his office chair.

I slipped my pistol out and twisted my silencer on before shooting out all the lights except for the desk top lamp.

Then, I waited.

The owner came back and closed the door behind him, sighing. He hit the light switch and became extremely confused.

That's when I flicked on the desk lamp.

I smirked at the owner. "Hey there, Owen."

He looked extremely shocked and very afraid. "K-Kinu! W-what are y-you doing here?"

"Don't play dumb."

Suddenly, he started chuckling evilly. "What can I say, babe? You're not exactly the first little girl that I've taken advantage of."

"Maybe not. But I can guarantee…"

I lifted my gun and pointed right at him, causing him to start begging for mercy.

"… I will be the last little girl that you deceive."

I pulled the trigger.


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2

I parked on the side of the abandoned, dirt road.

According to my tracker, the art thieves had fled to the woods at the edge of town. About a ten minute walk from the dirt road.

I stuffed my hair under my baseball cap, got out of car, grabbed my duffle and started walking.

After 10 minutes, I saw a cabin with its lights on.

'That has to be it.'

I got on all-fours and started crawling.

Once I was under the front window, I peaked in to see the three male thieves and a brunette woman. They were just talking and laughing.

Suddenly, the one in the hakuma look towards the window.

I immediately ducked down and crawled around the corner of the cabin.

I peaked back around the corner when I heard the window being open. Hakuma man stuck his head out and looked around.

"Hey! Goemon! What's wrong? You see something?"

Goemon looked around a bit more before saying, "It must have been a raccoon or some other animal."

He ducked back into the house and closed the window.

A few moments later, the light flicked off.

That was when I realized I hadn't been breathing. I took a deep, but quiet breathe.

I checked my watch. 1:00 a.m.

'30 minutes ought to give them enough time to fall asleep.'

…

1:30 a.m.

Go time.

I dropped from my hiding place in a tree and snuck around to the front of the cabin.

I noticed that there was no lock on the door so I, gently, pushed the door open and tip toed in.

2 of the thieves slept on the bed that pulled out of the couch. The other 2 were sleeping on the floor.

I looked around and saw only one other door, besides that front door.

I started tip toeing along to the door.

Suddenly, the floor creaked below me.

I froze.

I heard someone rolling around in their blanket while mumbling something about someone named Fujiko.

Then, they stopped moving.

Their snoring resumed.

I took a deep breathe and continued to tip toe.

I, slowly, turned the door knob and pushed the door open.

The room was pitch black.

I closed the door behind me.

I fished my small flashlight out of my duffle and clicked it on.

And the first thing I saw was my painting. In a frame. Which was nailed to the wall.

I whipped out my pocket knife and flipped out the smallest but sturdiest knife I had.

I started working at the nails, spinning them out of the holes.

To my surprise, it was a lot easier than I had anticipated. It was also as if the nails had been greased so that they would, easily come out.

I slipped the painting from the frame and looked at it, searching for any damage.

Everything looked fine. 'Time to get the hell out of here.

That's when I felt something cold and hard press to the back of my head.

I heard the safety of a gun click off.

A gruff voice said, "Don't move."

I let the painting fall from my hands and held my hands out to the sides, making them think that I was unarmed.

The lights clicked on.

'Now!'

Whipped around and slammed my fist into the back of the gun mans hand, knocked the revolver right out of his hand. I didn't waste anytime grabbing his wrist and swinging my foot around, slamming it right into his side. I twisted myself under his arm and tugged him over my head, sending him right to the floor.

With that, I kicked the man's gun away and brought my elbow back, slamming it into the face of the female who was trying to sneak up on me.

I turned around just in time to see the hakuma man try to bring his katana down on my head. I leaped back, dodging the fatal blow, but the katana did manage to slice the front of my body suit; my bra was the only thing that was keeping me from completely falling out. The swordsman barely gave me any time to think before he charged me, thrusting his sword at me. I threw myself into a back bend, just barely missing the blade. I planted my hands on the ground and kicked my feet up, kicking the sword out of the man's hand. I stalled in mid-air before slamming my heels right onto the swordsman's shoulder, sending him, face first, to the ground and landing me back on my feet.

One more to go.

I threw myself into a spinning kick, aiming right for his face. He caught me by the ankle much to my surprise. I felt something brush against my thigh as he shoved my leg away, spinning me in the opposite direction. The next thing I new, I was facing him again. His face was about and inch from mine. His arm was wrapped around my shoulder, holding me tightly. The gun from my thigh holster was pressed to my back while his gun was stuck right it the middle of my bulging cleavage.

The smirk on his face clearly state how very pleased he was and he didn't have to say a word.

'Crap.'

…

I was tied to a chair.

They had confiscated everything from me; my pocket knife, my duffle, which they search thoroughly. The only things I had in there were my sketch book, a change of clothes, and living essentials.

Everyone was spread out around the room. The swords-man sat in the corner, meditating.

The gun-man kept looking my stuff over.

The woman was leaning against the front door of the cabin.

The man who had caught me was sitting in a chair right in front of me, smirking his face off. He had my tracking fingernail in his hand and kept rolling it around.

He has been asking me questions all night and I simply refused to answer.

"Let's try this again; who are you?"

Silence.

"Why do you want the painting?"

Silence.

"We know you were at the museum when we tried to steal it. Why didn't you try to stop us?"

Silence.

Suddenly, the female spoke up. "Give it up, Lupin. She's not gonna tell us anything. Just kill her, dump the body somewhere and let's get out of this town."

"Come on, Fuji-cakes. You know that's not my style."

The swordsman broke his silence. "Maybe not, but it may be wise to, just this once, make it your style."

Lupin turned back to me and smirked, saying, "Nah. I'll think she'll come around sooner or later."

Just then, the gunman said, "Hey, Lupin, you might want to take a look at this."

Lupin went over to him and saw what he was looking at; my open sketchbook.

"Hey, isn't that…?"

"Yup."

"So that means…"

"Yup."

Lupin's smirk returned to his face as he walked back up to me. He gave a flourishing bow and said, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Shade Timmons."


End file.
